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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205117">A Game of Dominance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Napoleon, But here you go!, Choking, Degradation, Drinking, Drinking Games, Hate Sex, I hate them but I love them, Illya speaks russian, Lube, M/M, Napoleon is a Little Shit, Napoleon is a powerbottom alright, Napoleon is a switch, PWP, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Slight Overstimulation, Smut, Spanking, Top! Illya, Whipping, i said what i said, just a little, no one asked for this, quite extraordinary amounts of lube, straight up porn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:27:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon antagonized Illya in a drinking game, the first night they stayed in that hotel. Things escalated, and now both got in too deep to get out of this mess.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Illya Kuryakin &amp; Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Game of Dominance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>First of all, my friend was such a huge help with translating somethings to Russian. This has been in my head for fucking months and I had to write this. Chapter 2 will be them after these events, they will have an established relationship and my god the things I have in store for them. Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One thing, both Illya and Napoleon had never expected, was the peculiar relationship they would come to build after the night they spent on that hotel, in separate rooms from each other. Illya put Gaby to sleep and left the room to get a drink at the hotel’s bar. It was still very early, and a drink or two wouldn’t hurt while he’s on duty. He hardly ever gets drunk anyways so there was no worry. Upon arriving to the bar he found his – now partnered – enemy sitting there, having a glass of whiskey. Illya would have left the place then and there if it wasn’t for the American’s sly smile when he brought the glass on his lips, looking over at him.</p><p>“So, I figure your fiancé is not in the mood tonight is she?” Napoleon remarked when Illya sat on the stool right beside him and smiled to himself when he saw Illya glare at him.</p><p>“I may have been ordered not to kill you but that doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you, cowboy” Illya responded, making his order to the passing bartender.</p><p>“Fair enough,” the American responded. Silence crept up on them and both refrained from looking at one another until Illya’s glass was finally laid down in front of him. Napoleon brought his drink close so they would clink them together. Illya hesitated but rolled his eyes and complied. He brought the glass to his lips and downed the liquid in one gulp, hissing right afterwards. Napoleon raised his hand to order another drink and gained a curious glance from Illya.</p><p>“Aren’t you supposed to not get drunk while on duty?” The Russian man remarked, downing his glass in one gulp as well.</p><p>“I was going to ask you the same thing, actually.” Napoleon replied bringing his new drink down his throat again. Oh Illya knew what this meant. He was antagonizing him, and to Illya’s disdain it was working marvelously.</p><p>“Oh don’t worry about me American, I’m not the one getting tipsy from just 3 glasses.” It was on. The bartender was now going back and forth serving them again and again. The two men would both down their drinks and raise their hand for another. This went on for a couple of minutes, to the point where the counter in front of them was filled with empty glasses. Napoleon’s head was starting to spin and so did Illya’s but none dare to show the other that they wanted to quit.</p><p>“Are you…Are you thinking of giving up?” Napoleon said closing his eyes and reopening them to look at Illya, who was giving his best shot at appearing as stoic as ever.</p><p>“A Russian man…never backs down from a drinking game.” Illya responded, placing his elbow on the counter and supporting his head with his fist. Napoleon fully laid his face on the counter, feeling the cold sensation slightly waking him up from his drunken state.</p><p>“You don’t seem like you could go any further than that, Peril.” Napoleon almost mumbled.</p><p>“Neither do you, cowboy…” Illya almost barked back and both chuckled just a tiny bit. Before falling back to silence for a few seconds. If Illya could ever come to admit to himself, the man was fun. At least as a drinking buddy. But he would never let his guard down as to bring himself to like him, not even in the slightest. He opened his eyes and looked over to Napoleon. It was strange. He was strange. He looked very…how should he describe it? Like for some reason, he couldn’t help but look at his long eyelashes and soft looking cheeks. Napoleon opened his eyes and Illya immediately straightened averting his gaze, shaking himself away from those thoughts.</p><p>“We should probably get going.” Napoleon said getting off the stool, stumbling a tiny bit.</p><p>“Are you sure you’re able to walk yourself back to your room?” Illya questioned in a condescending tone while getting off of his seat. Napoleon supported himself on the counter with his left hand, leaning on it just barely.</p><p>“Are you starting to have feelings for the enemy now, Peril?” Napoleon caught a glimpse of Illya’s hand twitching slightly, making a small sense of accomplishment rise in his chest. “I will make it just fine.” He continued, letting go of the counter and moving forward. He made two steps before losing his balance and stumbling past Illya. In a split of a second, Illya instinctively caught Napoleon with one arm; stopping him from hitting his face on the floor. Illya pulled Napoleon from the collar of his shirt and straightened him up.</p><p>“You challenged a Russian man into a drinking game, when you can’t handle alcohol?” Illya chuckled right at the end. Napoleon’s eyebrows were furrowed and eyes closed shut. The only thing the American could do was mumble a small “shut up” before supporting his entire body on him. Illya gritted his teeth when he felt all of Napoleon’s weight on him and wrapped his arms around his chest to keep him standing. “Cowboy? Cowboy! черт...”(<em>shit...</em>) He slapped his face a few times, trying to wake the drunken man but to no avail. He cursed himself for getting in this situation. I mean he could leave him in the bar but, something in him forbade him.</p><p>He took Napoleon’s arm and placed it over his head to carry him to his room. In every few steps Illya had to pull the other man upwards so he would not fall to ground. When they got in the elevator, Illya had now moved on to verbally cursing himself, at the man he was stuck with and at the entire world altogether for the mess he got into. Why was he doing this really? Why didn’t he just leave him on that bar stool to sleep for the night and perhaps have one of the bellboys carry him to his room? There were a lot of questions that Illya would not dare to answer, for he perhaps would find something, he did not want to. The elevator dinged and both stepped out. Illya pulled Napoleon again and stood outside his room.</p><p><em>Damn it the key</em>, he thought.</p><p>“Cowboy?” he said and got only but a faint “hm” as a response, which annoyed Illya to his very being. He guessed he would have his room key in his pocket but could not reach it without letting go of him. He took him to the side and pinned him on the wall, placing his knee in between the man’s legs to support him. “If you’re pretending to be asleep, I swear I will cut you in pieces.” He said, reaching his hands on the inside of his suit but he found nothing. He searched on his front pockets, still nothing. It dawned on Illya where he hasn’t looked and raised his eyes to glance upon Napoleon’s face, who seemed to be unconscious.</p><p>Illya was already thinking of ways he would dismember him and bury him in the nearest deserted location. He exhaled and got closer to Napoleon only to reach for his back pockets. He tried to keep his face as further away as he could but in the end, he wasn’t able to grab the key unless he rested his head on the other’s shoulder just for a brief moment. When he grabbed it, he placed the man’s arm around his neck again and carried him to his room. Upon walking in and closing the door behind him, he saw his clothes scattered around the floor and an empty bottle of champagne with two glasses on the table. <em>Seems like he had a fun night</em>, he thought. He brought the man on the bed and let him fall onto it. Illya hadn’t realized Napoleon’s grip on him and was suddenly dragged down with him on the bed.</p><p>“Cowboy…I swear to fucking god…” he said trying to get up but was stopped when Napoleon’s thighs locked around his waist. He turned his attention back to the man below him and saw that he was fully sober. “So you <em>were</em> awake!” He yelled, struggling to get off the man’s hold.</p><p>“Of course I was, you thought I would really let myself be defenseless around my enemy?” Napoleon responded, resting his hands above his head and a sly expression painted on his face. “I never thought I could pull this off but you deemed yourself to be quite naïve. Are all Russians that gullible?” Illya gritted his teeth and grabbed Napoleon by the neck.</p><p>“I will kill you.” The Russian man said.</p><p>“Is that a promise?” Napoleon responded, bringing his hand on the Illya’s hair and pushing him down to his lips. Illya wanted to bite his tongue off and watch him bleed out but as soon as the idea popped in his head, Napoleon gripped his hair and pulled him away.</p><p>“What is your game here?” Illya questioned, rubbing his mouth with his hand, to forget the feeling of the other’s lips against his own.</p><p>“If this was a game, I assure you, you wouldn’t even be close at being a player.” Napoleon said, successfully making Illya’s guts boil with fury.</p><p>“Do you really think it’s a good idea to make me angry, in the position that you’re in?” As soon as those words left his mouth, Napoleon twisted his hips and brought Illya beneath him.</p><p>“What position?” Illya brought his fists in the air to punch him but Napoleon pushed them down to the mattress, holding them down in place.</p><p>“I’m going to give you, three seconds to get yourself off of me.” Illya ordered.</p><p>“And what if I don’t?” Napoleon rocked himself on Illya’s crotch, his mouth hanging slightly from the friction. Illya’s resolve was beginning to break, slowly and gradually. Napoleon looked down to Illya’s wrists that had now become a dark shade of pink from his tight hold.</p><p>“Cowboy.” He growled, his eyes very clearly holding murderous intent underneath them.</p><p>“Peril…” Napoleon dived back into the man’s mouth, breathing hardly into the kiss. Illya’s knee rose to push the man off of him but came to a halt when Napoleon parted his lips and slithered his tongue into his mouth. He was starting to forget what his mission was; he was starting to forget who they both were. What he tried not to forget was who was really in charge of this play. Illya pushed himself to sit up straight, never breaking apart from the other’s kiss. Napoleon grabbed Illya’s hand and placed it on his ass, encouraging the other to grope him. Illya chuckled in the kiss and squeezed hard gaining a low hum from the other. They only broke apart their kiss to undress themselves and then crush their mouths yet again.</p><p>Illya brought his mouth on his chest, abusing one of his nipples with his tongue. Napoleon ran his fingers in Illya’s blonde hair and gripped them tight. He arched his back when the Russian bit his nipple a bit too hard for his liking. They were both flushed; from the alcohol? From the situation they were in? They didn’t know exactly. What they did know, was that they got themselves too deep.</p><p>“Cowboy, I will not be gentle.” Illya threatened.</p><p>“I would only hope so.” He responded, holding Illya by his chin and crushing his lips onto his. He grabbed Napoleon ass with both arms and brought him underneath him. Napoleon tilted his head upwards only to expose his neck to him. Illya immediately brought his teeth down on his skin, gaining a choked moan from him. He licked and sucked hard on that area for a few moments before letting go with a loud pop. Illya trailed his mouth down the man’s chest until he reached his stomach and watched as Napoleon arched his back from the tingling sensation. He rose back up and unbuckled his pants, taking his belt off in the process.</p><p>“On your knees.” He ordered. Napoleon knew exactly what Illya was proposing, and he would be lying to himself, if he said that this battle for dominance didn’t excite him. Although truth be told, this wasn’t anything of a battle because if it really was, none of them would ever give in, for their own pride would not let them. But that’s what Napoleon liked most, for him to be pushed into submission. Had it been anyone else attempting this, they would have been dead on the spot. That is exactly what excited him about this. Losing all his dignity in the hands of his partnered enemy, it sent shivers down his spine.</p><p>He silently complied, turning himself over on all fours. Napoleon buried his face on his pillow and waited for the other’s next move. Illya unbuckled his pants and dragged them down to expose of Napoleon’s behind taking them off completely, but did not yet remove his underwear. He folded the belt in his hand and slashed it against his cheeks. Napoleon jolted forward with a hiss and Illya slashed it again down the same spot.</p><p>“Every time you move, is another 5 lashes added…” He trailed off, a drop of sweat falling down from his forehead. “Is that clear, cowboy?” He brought down the belt on Napoleon’s other cheek, hearing the choked whine that escaped him.</p><p>“Y…Yes…” Napoleon tried to bring himself back in position and bit the pillow beneath him to stay put.</p><p>“You are…a very big annoyance for me,” he whipped his ass again. “Your face alone…makes me want to bash it against the nearest wall.” He brought his crotch close to Napoleon’s ass and rubbed himself on him, refraining from making any noise. He didn’t want to make the other feel any accomplishment for this. Perhaps that was what he was after, to make Illya lose himself in pleasure, to see him in a defenseless state. Despite Napoleon being in the position that he was, it seemed in some way that he was still winning and that made Illya all the more furious.</p><p>Napoleon rocked his hips backwards to get more friction but was slapped immediately, this time with Illya’s hand. It hurt so much more, much more than the leather belt. Illya gripped him tight by the waist and hunched forward, bringing his lips close to the man’s ear. He could almost feel the heat coming off of it. Napoleon must have been beet red, all the way down his neck and the thought alone made something inside of Illya tremble.</p><p>"мы оба знаем, к чему это ведёт, ковбой. только, кажется, для тебя это не лучший исход." (<em>we both know where this leads to, cowboy. And it seems like the ending is not so good for you</em>). He trailed his hand down Napoleon’s crotch, pressuring it tightly earning a low whine from the other. Napoleon kicked Illya on his sides and brought him back again underneath him.</p><p>“As much as I enjoyed that, and believe me I have the guts to admit it…” He paused looking down at baffled Illya with a cunning expression on his face. “I’m not one to easily let someone take away my pride like that. I think, despite our differences we’re quite the same on that part.” He finished, gently crushing his lips on Illya’s, breathing into him and breaking apart only to look down on his flushed cheeks. He reached over at the hotel’s nightstand and got out a bottle of lube, he had in the drawer.</p><p>He was just about to slick his fingers up to loosen him up but Illya seized his hand. “I want to do it, tell me how.” He said, his face inches away from Napoleon’s. He was almost tempted to push him back down and perhaps tie his hands behind his back, so that he wouldn’t be able to move. But when his eyes fell down to the Russian’s crotch and noticed his erection, he understood why he was so insistent on doing this. He was getting <em>aroused</em>. He grabbed ahold of his hand and opened his palm, letting the cool liquid ran down his fingers, slicking them up.</p><p>Illya brought himself closer to him, chest to chest in order to bring his hand behind the other’s back. His hand was guided by Napoleon under his briefs and Illya followed.</p><p>“Start with one of your fingers and slowly increase them as you go.” He instructed and held his lips directly above Illya’s. He felt his finger enter him almost immediately, and hissed at the foreign feeling it gave him. He hasn’t done this for a while, not with a man that is. He gripped Illya’s shoulder and tried to keep his breathing stable.</p><p>“Does it hurt?” He questioned. Illya had never done it with a man, or ever attempted to even think about it so he hasn’t really done his homework on this.</p><p>“You were the one that said you weren’t going to be gentle…what changed?” Napoleon chuckled briefly before Illya added a finger without notice, making him hitch his breath and close his mouth shut.</p><p>“You really want me to hurt you, don’t you?” he replied in a mocking tone, continuing to penetrate the man with his fingers.</p><p>“Try a scissoring…kind of movement…with your fingers…” Napoleon said in sharp exasperated breaths. Illya quickly got the hang of it and loosened him up bit by bit until a third finger was able to be added. “Okay stop, that is enough.” He continued. He placed his hand on his chest and applied a little pressure. Illya didn’t go along with it immediately and smiled at him thinking that he was joking but, seeing as Napoleon had kept a stoic expression on his face made him realize that he wasn’t. He added more pressure and Illya complied this time, letting himself lie back down to the bed. He slid his fingers inside Illya’s underwear and dragged his pants and briefs off of him. Illya rose back up from his position but Napoleon got on top off him just as quickly, halting him from rising any further.</p><p>“Let me…” Napoleon whispered. He took the bottle of lube and rubbed a generous amount of liquid on Illya’s erection. Illya gripped his waist in anticipation and gritted his teeth when Napoleon brought his cock right at his entrance. They both loudly exhaled when Napoleon moved his hips backwards, taking all of Illya in him. He placed his hands on the other’s stomach and began rocking himself up and down, Illya’s grip still remaining on his waist. Napoleon was suddenly dragged down in a quick movement and could not refrain from letting any sounds that were building up, inside his throat escape him.</p><p>“Peril…” he moaned, not giving a damn anymore. It was burning him up, and was restricting his lungs. He wanted to scream out his name, damn everything else. His pace grew harder and faster but, he was not getting exactly what he wanted. This wasn’t enough. “Peril, Peril please…” Illya could perfectly understand what he was pleading for and immediately lied above him. Napoleon, now lying on his stomach, spread his cheeks. Illya forced himself all the way in, rocking his head backwards from the tight sensation.</p><p>“блять...”(<em>fuck...</em>) He cursed, thrusting into him. Napoleon was gripping the sheets so intensely that it almost seemed like he would rip them apart. Illya bent forward, wrapping his arm around his neck in a choke-hold. He squeezed and listened as the other choked out a whine. He felt his arm being gently held by Napoleon, and it made Illya want to pound him even harder. He wanted make the other feel inferior, he wanted to keep him there beneath him and fuck him until he never had the guts, to ever even attempt at making that annoying cunning face again.</p><p>“Peril, oh my god Peril!” Napoleon was starting to lose himself, he chanted his name over and over like a mantra. Illya was getting close, he felt his orgasm build all the way up his stomach. Napoleon wrapped his hand around his erection and began jerking himself off, getting closer and closer. It all felt so excruciating, the tight hold on his throat, the constant abuse of his prostate. Tears welled up in his eyes and unwillingly streamed down his face. His mouth hanged open and he let his orgasm pierce right through him, Illya’s pace quickened and Napoleon felt like he would scream from the overstimulation.</p><p>Illya’s last few thrusts were unforgiving and rough, before he felt the man going slightly limp above him. Napoleon lied on his side, breathing hard; letting his orgasm wash over his body. Focusing only on the ringing in his head and all his tensed muscles, finally relax. Illya sat on the edge of the bed, letting his head rest on his hands. He turned his gaze back to Napoleon, who was now spread out on the king sized bed. Illya let his eyes wonder on the his body – as much as he’d like to hate him for absolutely everything – at that moment he looked almost divine; and he hated how much he couldn’t look away from him.</p><p>“This never…This will never happen, we don’t speak of this.” Illya stuttered. “Whatever happened tonight stays in these walls or else I-”</p><p>“Save your threats, Peril.” Napoleon interrupted. “I won’t say a thing…” He finished, rolling over on the other side. Illya stood there with his brows furrowed before he got ahold of his clothes and got dressed. Napoleon covered himself with the sheets and stretched his body, under the soft satin fabric. He heard the room’s door slam shut and then silence. He had to get up and take a shower but, his legs felt way too weak for him to stand. He sleepily chuckled, by remembering his words.</p><p><em>This will never happen again huh</em>, he thought. Illya would soon come to find out, that everything goes his way and defying him, only makes it the more amusing. This was just the beginning of what’s soon to come and Napoleon felt for the first time in years, something deep inside him well up with enthusiasm. He was going to have so fun breaking him, he hadn’t yet realized the trap that he walked himself into and Napoleon slept in his bed, as a victor.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! I'll try to update as soon as possible.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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